


Monochrome and Brilliant

by LunaStories



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, M/M, businessman!Castiel, homeless!dean, i'm so done with this shit, it's a short prompt i said, make a one shot i said, nope - Freeform, this thing IS GROWING OMG
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 22:38:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3094457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaStories/pseuds/LunaStories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean is homeless and Castiel is a businessman.</p><p>When a businessman drops his briefcase full of papers all over the floor, Dean helps him pick them up. This starts a relationship that neither of them were prepared for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monochrome and Brilliant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/gifts).



> Based on a prompt given to me by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me:
> 
> AU-- Dean is homeless but still tries to help people when he can. One day, he sees a business man trip, causing his suitcase to burst open and papers to fly everywhere. Dean spends the next twenty minutes helping the guy chase down his files and memos. After he does, the business man offers him a warm meal -- and then a shower to get cleaned up ... and then, maybe more. (Business man is Cas, obviously haha)
> 
> Beta-ed by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me

The world had dulled with time.

Time had destroyed the rose-colored lenses that Dean Winchester used to observe the world. His perch high above most of humanity, looking down on those who were less fortunate. His arrogance was his downfall.

Dean was a brilliant businessman, no doubt. Even though his company wasn't too big, he made decent money from it and lived comfortably. This illusion of comfort gave him the belief that he would only move up in the industry, naively confident in the fact that even though his work had it's ups and downs, it was steady.

January 5th, 2011 was the day his company went bankrupt and it was not one of his favorite memories.

Regardless, Dean had taken his fall in stride. Before his hard earned place in the business world, he had survived on week by week paychecks. He knew suffering, and he understood struggle.

However, he was ill-prepared for the true pain of hitting rock bottom. In the past, no matter how poor he had been, at least he had a roof over his head and food to survive.

Now, he was worth nothing but the clothes on his back and even then _that_  wasn’t much. He had sold his expensive suit for money; and what had once been a $200 dollar suit was now sold for the measly price of $40. He was left with nothing but a dirty, tattered, white button up that used to be respectable. Now it looks more brown than white.

He turned to those who he had once believed to be his friends, but they abandoned him when he asked for help.

It was almost funny how fast people dropped him when he was not beneficial anymore.

But that was alright, he didn’t need their help anyway. He had always been a lone wolf and he was going to be _just fine_. There were homeless shelters. That’s where he stayed most of the time when he wasn’t trying to find a job. There were also people who give out food them and thus far, he has survived on the charity of others. It was fine, and there was nothing to worry about.

_Soon, he would be able to find a job and get out of this place. Everything would be fine._

 At least that’s what he tried to tell himself.

As the days went on, Dean slowly started losing hope. He’d tried so many places but none were willing to take their chances and hire someone without an address. He started doubting his self worth, his abilities. The man who had once been at the top seemed so far away now. Some days, it was hard to believe that he was that same man.

Everything was monochrome. Life became something to endure rather than to behold; and Dean was becoming increasingly tired. He knew that this was a dangerous path and at this rate, he would be close to severe depression...and that would only add to his problems.

He couldn’t bring himself to care though. After all, what was _one more_ problem within his mountain of issues?

The date was March 12th and that was the day Dean Winchester rediscovered himself.

It had started as a routine day: get up, grab a portion of the food rations, and wander around moping. The shelter was almost falling apart, old and rain-worn, but at least it was better than nothing. He avoided the others who stayed there. Even though he had "lived" with them for a few months now, he still refused to talk to any of them. To him, it felt as if speaking to them would only solidify his now dismal place in society. 

He was standing at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn green. He was headed to the park to sit in peace and quiet, like he always did. It was the only time he ever felt something close to contentment. As he waited, he saw a streak of color fly by.

He observed in detached horror as the blur of color morphed into a child who had run into the traffic, chasing after some pigeons.

Everything seemed to slow as his mind raced a mile a minute but seemingly without his control, his body reacted even faster. Before he knew it, he had tackled the boy, rolling them to the safety of the sidewalk on the other end of the street. He wrapped the boy in his hold, protecting him with his own body.

The world sped up again. Everything was in brilliant bursts of color. The adrenaline was still pumping in his veins and he noticed dazedly that the mom had ran over and was hugging her boy, sobbing and thanking him over and over for what he had done. He could only give her a wobbly smile before shakily getting back to his feet. He dusted himself off, and without knowing what else to do, continued heading in the direction of the park.

Even though he could hear her calling after him with mentions of payment or some other form of gratitude, he only looked back once and gave her a small wave as he left.

He knew he was in shock; after all, he had just had a near-death experience and anyone would be at least _a little_ bit dazed.

But as he sat on the park bench, staring off into the distance, he realized this was another sort of shock: one born out of the validation that he was  _useful_. That he had just saved someone’s life and as poor and penniless as he was, he still managed to help someone else more fortunate.

He laughed hysterically, startling the pigeons that had been peacefully walking around the bench. As they flew away, _he knew_. He knew that this was what truly validated his existence. After months of being useless he could finally  _feel_  again. He looked out over the familiar landscape, but this time, he didn’t see a dirty old park; he saw the green of trees and felt the buzz of life. It was exhilarating, he felt so  _alive_.

The date was March 12th and that was the day that Dean Winchester said “fuck it”. He decided to dedicate each day to helping at least _one_ person.

As the weeks went by, he became well known around the park as the “nice man” and though he may not have been in the most fortunate of situations, he felt satisfied and content. With every person he helped, whether it be small things like picking up something they dropped or chasing runaway pets, every person whose face he brought a smile to, the happier he became.

Of course, his actions were not without benefit, and though he never accepted any of the offers given to him by the people he helped, the owners of the food stands around the place often gave him free food and water, and that was enough for him. At least, that’s what he believed until he met _him_.

The date was May 14th, and that was the day Dean Winchester met the man who changed _everything_.

  _TBC_

 

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in 3-4 ish years so to stretch my writing wings I am doing these prompts. I'm ridiculously nervous about this honestly, because I haven't written in SO LONG. But I decided to give it a try because my beautiful tumblr friend inspired me, this fic is also for her.
> 
> ...So this was supposed to be a one shot. And like, the prompt didn't even ask for all this background shit; I was going to go straight to Dean meeting Cas but FOR SOME REASON MY FINGERS STARTED TYPING THIS AND I COULDN’T STOP AND NOW THE FIC IS GROWING OMG. This always happensssss augh this is why writing is so hard for me because when I write my fingers and brain don’t listen to me and I start making a huge ass story holy crap. The story writes itself, ugh.
> 
> Edit: castiel-left-his-mark-on-me beta-ed my story for me! She’s awesome and I’ve edited so it should be better now :3


End file.
